Word, Of Words The Sweetest,
O Word, In Which There Lie
All Promise, All Fulfilment,
Arid End Of Mystery !
Lamenting, Or Rejoicing,
With Doubt Or Terror Nigh,

I Hear The Come ! Of Jesus,
And To His Cross I Fly
Come ! Oh, Come To Me !
Come ! Oh, Come To Me !
Weary, Heavy-Laden,
Come ! Oh, Come To Me !

O Soul ! Why Shouldst Thou Wander
From Such A Loving Friend ?
Cling Closer, Closer To Him,
Stay With Him To The End
Alas ! I Am So Helpless,
So Very Full Of Sin,
For I Am Ever Wandering,
And Coming Back Again.

Oh, Each Time Draw Me Nearer,
That Soon The Come May Be
Naught But A Gentle Whisper,
To One Close, Close To Thee ;
Then, Over Sea And Mountain,
Far From Or Near My Home,
I’ll Take Thy Hand And Follow,
At That Sweet Whisper, Come !